I Am
by Kodiak Bear Country
Summary: What happens when you realize reality isn't real? [COMPLETE]
1. Cracks in Reality

AN: Well, you may be wondering what I'm doing working on this when I haven't finished the other, but it was hounding my mind to no end, wanting to be written, so I'm doing something I didn't want to do, and that's write two fics simultaneously. This is a dark fic, and it will be shorter than Paradigm. I had this one rolling around in my mind since I began Paradigm, and I've been taking notes for it as I wrote the other. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thanks, TJ, for the beta!

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** Prologue**

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A famous philosopher, Renee Descartes, once made a statement that became the Rosetta stone for the science of philosophy. He said, _I think, therefore I am_. When I studied his essay in college, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly that proved. It seemed vague, and left a lot open to interpretation. By what do we define _I_? If we believe Freud, then the _I_, is the id, and the ego, and they reside in constant conflict, allowing our actions to betray our inner desires. If we believe Buddha, then the _I_ could be the sum of an old soul's experiences. 

I believed it was somewhere in between. I'm not religious, but when you're facing death, you've got to believe in something. I haven't lived by the Eight Noble Truths, or journeyed to the Wailing Wall, but I've said a few prayers to whoever might be listening in the great big beyond. I don't usually waste a lot of thought about who _I_ am. Pilot, guy. That's about it.

But I'm also a soldier, and I know that a lot of people wouldn't consider a military guy to be capable of deep thoughts, but when you're faced with only yourself as a companion, and trusting that only your deepest thoughts are real, you begin to consider a lot of things you've never had the time to ponder before.

Now, I've lost track of time. I can't recall the days, or weeks, that may have passed. I no longer know if bed I'm lying on is real, or another figment, one that will shift before I blink, and I'll wake somewhere else. If someone had told me that the day would come where I wouldn't know fact from fiction, reality from make-believe, I would have said that they were crazy. The only problem with that, is now I know, _I_ am the one who is insane.

**

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Chapter One**

**Cracks in Reality

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**

"Major!"

I knew that voice. I was walking down the hall, heading towards a breakfast that I had been dreaming about since I'd landed. I had finished my last trip to the mainland, and the last person I wanted to run into was Elizabeth Weir. You might be wondering why, sure she's attractive, and usually we get along pretty well, but I knew _why_ she wanted me, and I was going to wring that little weasel's neck.

I stopped walking, and turned to face her. "I'm not doing it."

Elizabeth had the grace to appear flustered. "Major, be reasonable "

I cut her off. "No, Doctor Weir," I drawled. "He had no right to go crying to mommy because I told him it would have to wait."

"Actually, you told him, and I quote, _a cold day in hell, or when Atlantis freezes over_, _whichever comes first_, end quote."

Okay, so I did. I was a little irritated at the time, and a guy's entitled. I'd spent the night ferrying Athosian's back and forth to the mainland. They were establishing their camp, and we didn't have anyone trained on the Jumper's, yet. It hadn't been that long since we'd caught Steve, and frankly, I was tired. "I may have said that."

She sighed in that way that let me know she was getting equally as tired with me. "John, this is important. We need every piece of equipment that Rodney can get working, especially now with the Wraith out there."

I folded my arms against my chest, and regarded her with a fair amount of defiance. "I'm not the expedition's pet guinea pig."

"Yes, you _are_."

Well, when she put it that way, I guess I was. The whole reason I was here was because of that damn gene. What are the odds? I still wonder at the twist of fate that had me sit in that chair. I hadn't meant to, but I was curious, always curious. This line of argument wasn't going to work. "Look, _Doctor_, I need a break." I tried for the sympathy vote. "I've been up all night, and I was heading for breakfast when he intercepted me. Let me eat, and get some sleep, and then I'll be there with bells on."

The sympathy line seemed to work because I could see that maternal instinct rolling in like a thunderstorm across her features. I knew I looked like hell. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before, and night flying made me feel all racoonish. "Fine Major, see that you do."

"I promise."

She seemed to size me up, once more for good measure, then headed back the way she had came, calling over her shoulder, "Good luck."

Wiseass. Good luck wasn't what I needed. I needed some kind of protective equipment, like that personal shield McKay had found. Half the stuff they asked me to try shocked me or knocked me out or threw me across the room. My bruises had bruises, and I'd threatened mutiny the last time I'd woken up in the infirmary. Who knew being almost Ancient was dangerous to your health?

I sauntered into McKay's lab five hours later. He was where I'd left him. "How do you do that?"

He looked up, and judging by the irritated expression, I was in for it. "Do what?" he snapped.

"Work on the same thing for five hours straight?" I said. It wasn't that I couldn't work on something that long, but it didn't happen often, and McKay was _always_ doing it. He'd start on a project, and his normally frantic mind would become focused. You could barely pull him away. He reminded me of a pit bull when their jaw latches on, and you can never get them to let go.

"It's called attention span, Major, something you seem to be lacking."

Touché, the physicist had a bite this evening. It might be because I'd kept him waiting. He'd get over it. "It's not an attention span, it's called a life. Get one," I snapped right back at him. When it came to exchanging words, McKay and I gave the Webster dictionary a workout.

"Are you going to do what I need, or stand around and throw juvenile insults?"

I was kind of partial to the insults, but whatever. "What do you want me to do?"

"Pull out your hair." McKay said, and pointed at my head.

I stared at him. That wasn't normal for McKay. "What?"

McKay rolled his eyes at me, not very subtle. "I said, go over there," and this time he was pointing to an area behind me.

I shook my head, thinking maybe I needed more sleep than I had gotten. I saw a platform behind me, looked almost like a transporter pad out of Star Trek. "Just stand on that?"

McKay nodded absently, his attention already pulled off me, and back on the controls for the device. I hesitated before stepping on the lighted circle. "What exactly does this do?" Rodney's head remained down. Whatever he was working on was getting his full attention, and I needed a piece of that. "McKay, _what_ does it _do_?" I tried again.

He finally looked me, and it was a look my mom gave me when I asked why the sky was blue, and the grass was green. "Major, if I knew what it did, I wouldn't need you."

Fair enough. "It's not going to hurt, is it?" That was my main concern at this point.

"It might."

And this was supposed to reassure me? "You're not helping," I said.

He was ignoring me again, and his head bent over some console filled with buttons. He pushed one, and I felt a spark slice through my body. "Hey!"

McKay looked up. "Did it do anything?"

"It shocked me," I said angrily, and started to step off the pad.

"Don't move!" he shouted, holding a hand out. "It gave your body an electrical charge, or at least, I think it did."

He was busy tapping away, and reading Ancient text scrolling by under his nose. I hesitantly put my foot back down. The thing of it is I trusted McKay. If he told me to stay, I'd stay. If he told me to jump, I'd jump. I might bitch about it, and say a few things I shouldn't, but I'd do it.

"If I try this, maybe," McKay muttered to himself.

I thought about reminding him I was still in the room, stuck on the pad, waiting. He raised his eyes, and they bored into me. I narrowed mine, confused, because he seemed different. "McKay…"

I saw him twist a knob, and found myself locked in place. My knees, elbows, neck, every single joint and muscle in my body froze, and an unbelievable pain soared over my consciousness. "Stop!" I managed to shout. Rodney was still looking at me, and his eyes remained steady, his features unaffected by my plight, and to my horror I saw him deliberately twist the dial a notch higher. It was the last thing I saw before the growing darkness took over.


	2. Oddities

**

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Chapter Two**

**Oddities

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**

I opened my eyes. The brightness of the lights caused me to squint. I didn't know where I was, but I had an idea. I was staring at a ceiling that I was pretty sure belonged to the infirmary. I rolled my head to the right, and saw Weir sitting beside me. I blinked. "What happened?"

"Rodney said something went wrong with the equipment."

My voice was croaky, like Kermit the Frog, and I was thirsty. "Water?"

She nodded, and got up, walking out of my line of sight. I tried to remember what had happened. Memories were starting to return, and the mental movie reel ended on McKay intentionally dialing it up, after I'd asked him to stop.

A water glass was thrust in front of me. "Here, Major." Elizabeth was holding the plastic cup in front of me, and started adjusting the bed so I could drink without wearing it.

"Thanks," I said, and took a long drink. The water was lukewarm, but tasted better than a chocolate shake on a hundred degree day in Texas. "Where's McKay?" I had a bone to pick with him. I wanted to know what game he was playing. We'd gone back and forth with petty jokes and stunts, but never intentionally hurt the other. What I remembered from earlier could only be described as intentional.

"He said he'd be down to check on you soon," she answered.

"What was the problem? I feel like I've gone surfing for a week straight." I'd done that once, and if I was being truthful, this felt worse.

Elizabeth paused before answering, hesitating for what I didn't know. "He said the device charged your body, and in order to discharge, you had to be grounded. When he did, he didn't realize there wasn't any insulator on the pad."

I'm not a dense person. If electricity courses through your body, it has to go somewhere, and that somewhere is to ground. If you have an insulator, you'll be fine, but if there isn't one, it's going to hurt. I was pretty sure this fit the definition of hurt. The only thing of it was, I thought I had seen McKay increase the charge on my body. That first spark wouldn't have been enough to land me here.

"McKay tried to kill you," Elizabeth whispered from my bedside. She had sat back in her chair, and was adjusting her shirt.

"What?" I asked, confused. She'd announced that as if she was giving me an update on the weather, not accusing my friend of attempted murder.

She stilled her hands, and looked up from whatever wrinkle was holding her attention. "I said, McKay thought he killed you." She looked at me oddly. "Major, are you okay?" She said it like she was afraid I'd had a few brain cells to many fried in the accident.

Ironically, I was beginning to wonder the same thing. "I'm fine," I said, as much to reassure myself, as to reassure her. That was twice I'd misheard what was said. I wondered if the q-tips were doing their job. "Where's Beckett?" I wanted to get out of here and track down McKay. See him tell me to my face and judge whether he was hiding something or not.

Elizabeth looked behind her, towards the area where Beckett had set up an impromptu office. He was almost always there when patients were in the infirmary. He'd even had a bed brought in. "Carson!" Elizabeth shouted, surprising me, she usually is reserved and quiet. Come to think of it, I can't recall her raising her voice like that before.

Beckett poked his head around the corner, and when he saw me sitting up, a broad smile rewarded my awake status. "How do you feel, Son?" he asked, coming over to my side, and slipping on his stethoscope.

"Like I've been electrocuted," I replied dryly. Redundant questions seemed to be a staple of the medical field.

He pulled his head back from leaning over my right shoulder, letting the cold metal slide off my skin from its position over my lung. "Back to normal, I see," he observed.

I was pretty sure that wasn't a compliment. Yeah, I'm not the most _patient_ patient. Truth be told, I think he's still pissed at me for not coming back after I was stunned before we caught Steve. I'd promised him I'd come back when it was all said and done, and then had forgotten. Okay, maybe not _forgotten_ so much as decided it wasn't necessary. He'd given me a lecture that would've made my mother beg for mercy, and I was scared about my next routine physical.

Back to the matter at hand, I cleared my throat. "Can I go?"

He was looking me over like a prize piece of china, with a hairline crack running through the center. "You'll take it easy?" he asked, and was that a hint of reproach?

"Yes," I tucked the crossed fingers closer under my thigh beneath the sheet. "I promise."

"Elizabeth, a moment please?" Carson asked, but it wasn't a question.

Weir stood, casting a concerned look my way, before placing a hand gently on Carson's arm, and moving out the door. I watched her leave, appreciating the view, before looking back at Beckett. He was giving me that look, and I knew I hadn't fooled him.

Beckett sat on the bottom edge of my bed, and folded his arms over his chest. "Major, I won't be saying this again. You take it easy, or you'll wind up back here. A body can only take so much abuse, and you've heaped it on "

I felt the need to defend myself at that juncture. "I'm not the one doing it!" I protested.

He scowled. "Don't test anything, don't have your session with Teyla, no missions, nothing except eat, sleep, and relax for the next week, is that clear?"

I don't think I'd ever seen him this serious. I let the crossed fingers unwind. So, maybe I would take it easy, at least for a few days. It wouldn't hurt to let him think he'd made a point, for a little while. "Okay," I replied.

He stared at me for another long moment, I guess trying to decide if I was being serious, or complacent enough, to get the letter out of here. I was kind of doing both. You don't tell the warden you have plans for skipping parole before they let you out of the joint. "You can go. Pick up your pain medication from the duty nurse," he said finally, and slid off the bed, disappearing into his office, not giving me a second warning glance.

I didn't need to be told twice. I was a little worried he'd come running back, and tell me he changed his mind.I slid off the bed, and realized instead of the scrubs I normally got stuck in, they'd gone the gown road this time. I felt something pulling, and peeked down the neck hole and realized why it was a gown. I had all those little sticky pads from an EKG left in my hair. Damn it, those things hurt! No wonder Beckett had hightailed it out of there.

I wasn't even going to try to get those off. I grabbed a blanket, and hightailed it to the showers, snatching a pair of those gay pink scrubs on the way. Water was a sticky things worse enemy. It'd get most of it off with minimal hair loss, and hopefully minimal pain. I think this was part of his payback move. They could've taken them off when I was out, and I would've been none the wiser, except a little less hairy.

It took about thirty minutes of soaking, pulling, and praying before I was showered, back in my quarters, and tossing on a clean uniform. Since I had been grounded I kept it to some jeans and my black shirt. Now, it was time to hunt down McKay.

* * *

Where was that sneaky bastard hiding? I'd gone to his lab, and he wasn't there. I'd tried Zelenka's, and even checked Kavanaugh's hole, but no McKay. I had been wandering around, and had nothing to show for it except fatigue, which was gaining ground fast. 

I finally gave up and headed towards the mess hall, and what would you know, there he was eating lunch with Ford and Teyla. I was kind of hungry so I went through the line and got whatever was the daily special, and joined them at the table.

"Major, it is good to see you up," Teyla greeted, smiling warmly.

She always smiled that way at me. It was like a friend you hadn't seen in years, and they were always so happy to see you. It made me feel good inside. I was worried she'd wake up some day, and start blaming me for what I'd inadvertently caused on her planet. It was my fault they were here. If I hadn't activated that stupid locket things might be a lot different. "It's good to be up," I said, sliding my tray beside hers.

"We were coming to see you after eating, Sir. Didn't expect the Doc to let you go so soon." Ford looked embarrassed that _I'd_ found _them_, and not the other way around. He was like the loyal bloodhound of Atlantis, and for whatever reason, he'd latched on to me as someone to look up to, and learn from. I guess the kid could do worse.

McKay was checking me out, top hair sticking up, to polished boots at the bottom. I looked at the boots. Maybe not so polished anymore. I caught his eye, and he flushed. "What?" I asked, self-consciously.

"Just making sure there wasn't any exit holes. You should have seen the arc you created," he said it casually, but I got the impression that I had scared him.

"About that," I started. "Which way did you turn that dial?"

He picked a roll off his tray, and set it back down, then picked up his juice and gave it a tentative sniff. "The right, I think. Why?"

"Because I told you to stop, and you turned it up," I accused. I didn't want to confront him in front of anyone else, but on the other hand, they were all on my team, and I wasn't a believer in secrets.

McKay seemed genuinely startled by my accusation. He set the juice down. "I had to get it to build up enough of a charge so it would discharge, letting you get off the pad. I didn't know there wasn't an insulator."

Now I felt bad. Rodney looked like I had shot his dog or something. It's kind of funny because here was this guy, about as blustery as a north wind, and as prickly as a porcupine, but inside he was all soft cotton and pudding. His heart was about as protected as Switzerland. "Well." I lost my edge, "Just, don't do it again."

"If I knew it was going to send you flying across the room, I would've had a video camera," McKay added, smiling smugly in his attempt at humor.

My goodwill evaporated. "Funny," I said. Of course, I was the one who thought it'd be funny to toss him over the balcony, and shoot him in the leg. It's a complicated friendship we had going.

Which brings me to the fact that we are all here to eat, and I was starving. I looked at my plate to check out the daily special. The sign had said bean and bacon soup, not a dish I was overjoyed about, but it was something the military could make pretty portable, so they tended to use it a lot. Canned goods had a shelf life longer than Elizabeth Taylor.

I dipped my spoon in the liquid, and brought it up to my lips, before I realized my spoon was full of crawling worms. I tossed the spoon across the table, and jumped out of my seat. "What the hell is that?" I shouted, pointing at the bowl.

Ford stared at me, stunned. "Bean and bacon soup?" he said, but it was like he was asking _me_ what it was.

"There were bugs, crawling things, in it." I pointed at it, and leaned in, surprised to see that a bean was floating on the surface, not a bug. I looked up, and realized I'd tossed the contents of my spoon on McKay, who hadn't budged an inch, and was covered in beans, with liquid dribbling down his chin.

I also realized that everyone in the room was staring at me. I looked again at the soup, thinking this was a trick. Someone's idea of a joke, but the soup mocked me in its normalcy of beans and bacon, with not a bug in sight. I swallowed. "I, uh, I'm just going to go," I backed away from the table. "I'm going to go take a nap."

McKay lifted a napkin calmly from the table, and slowly wiped his face, and knocked the beans off his shoulder. "That would be a good idea, Major."

I felt the eyes on my back as I forced myself to walk out of the room. That was weird, even for me. Maybe Beckett was right. Maybe I did need to take it easy. I headed for my quarters, and figured probably I should stay there for a while, a long, long while.

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, and as for the evil, mean, horrible cliffies, if you read my stuff you know I just can't resist! **


	3. Losing My Mind

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Chapter Three**

**Losing My Mind**

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Someone was pounding on my door. I rolled over, trying to get up without knocking my blanket and pillow to the floor, but did it anyway. I staggered to my feet, and crossed to the panel, opening the door. The thin silver slid open to reveal Elizabeth standing in my doorway. 

I had been slouching, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, and not altogether thrilled at talking to anyone, but at the sight of the illustrious Doctor, I straightened, and rubbed my eyes. She was wearing this sexy red shirt, with a scoop neck so low…well, it was low, and I had to fight to keep my eyes up where they were supposed to be. "Uh," I stuttered a bit, "You needed something?"

Brilliant. I winced visibly at my stupidity. _Of course she needed something, that's why she was knocking on my door, idiot_, I berated myself with an internal monologue.

She pushed by me, and sashayed into my room. Yes, she _sashayed_. I didn't know she could do that. She pranced to my bed, and sat down, crossing her legs, and leaning over so far that little was left to the imagination because of that scoop neck.

"Um," I coughed uncomfortably, reaching onto the chair and grabbing my shirt, suddenly aware of my bare chest in a way I hadn't been in a while. I slid it on quickly. "Uh, what can I do for you?" I cringed at how that came out. Sounded like I was offering something that you'd get in a red light district. I forced my head up, _nothing to look at down there_, I told myself.

She ran a finger over her bottom lip, slowly, sensuously. I think if I'd been a cartoon character, my eyes would've bugged out of my head. She was one hundred percent aware of the effect she was having on me. "I wanted to," she did another slow trace of her lip, "discuss the security of the quarters with you."

I took a step backwards, and another. She was eyeing me like I was a piece of candy in Joe's candy shop from back home. She slid up from my bed, and came at me, slowly, and we did this dance. I took a step back, and she stepped forward, until I hit the wall, and she was up close, leaning into me. She pushed her body into mine, and leaned over, breathing on my neck, and lowering her mouth closer to my skin.

Now, I know you're thinking, this is the stuff a guy dreams about, but I knew this was wrong. Elizabeth and I had exchanged some looks, and sure, there was some chemistry there, but neither of us were prepared to go any further, at least not yet. But here she was, as if out of my dreams, and I was about to run for cover. My buddies would laugh me out of the bar, but this was weird, and I wasn't into weird. I tried to push her back without being aggressive. "Uh, Elizabeth? You know, I'm, um, well to be honest," I was mucking this all up, "Beckett told me to rest," I tried, hoping that might get through to her.

She nibbled my ear lobe, causing me to grin because, let's face it, guys are really sensitive _there_. "You'll get plenty of rest, John," She murmured, sweet and low, and God, I felt my insides clench.

"Okay, that's enough, just," I pushed her away, stronger, and this time she pulled back, allowing me some breathing room, "stop. What's with you, anyway? You aren't the next Elvira, so just back off," I said, and the more I spoke, the angrier I got, and the louder I got.

She pouted. "You don't want me?"

_This can't be happening, this can't be happening_, I repeated over, and over again inside my head, because it really couldn't be happening. I closed my eyes, covering them with my hands, and kept repeating it, like I was Dorothy in Oz, and clicking my feet together crying, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home!"

"John?"

It was Elizabeth again. She was pulling my hands off my face. I let her, and opened my eyes warily, to find she was standing before me, wearing her normal outfit; she even had her gray jacket on. She was looking at me, worried, and motherly. I swallowed, and tried to stand up straighter.

I wanted to act casual, but I'll be honest with you, at this point, I was more than a little freaked out. Things were happening that I couldn't explain, and things like this just weren't normal, not even for this side of the universe. "Elizabeth," I croaked, my voice deep and throaty, still trying to shake off the desire that had entered my mind and body, even unwanted. "Something's wrong."

* * *

"Now, tell me again, what did you see in your soup?" Beckett asked. 

I had left my quarters and headed straight to the infirmary. I hadn't given Elizabeth all the information about my hallucination, but I did tell her that I was seeing things, experiencing things, that weren't real. She'd given me a concerned look, and told me to report to the infirmary. I bolted like a bat out of hell, because at that moment, I wanted to get away from her, and find some control over myself.

So, here I sat, on one of those thin infirmary beds, with Beckett beside me, sitting on one of those small black stools that the doctor's loved to use, and everyone else loved for the twirl factor.

"Bugs," I enunciated carefully. "There were tons of small bugs."

Beckett frowned. "Are you sure you didn't just mistake the beans "

"I'm sure!" I'd been trying to get Carson to take me seriously, but the man didn't want to believe I was cracking up. I didn't blame him. I wasn't too excited about the idea either, but something wasn't right in Kansas, and I needed him to believe me if I was going to get any help. "It's not just that. Rodney tried to kill me, he told me to pull my hair out, Elizabeth said McKay tried to kill me, and she's acting…_odd_."

Now Beckett was starting to believe me, and I tell you how I know. He'd gone from that slightly confused, but not very worried look, too something along the lines of finding a straight jacket, and putting me in it. "I see." Carson said, and he was taking notes furiously on the clipboard in his hand.

I had a flash of panic at that point, wondering if maybe this wasn't the smartest thing to do. I grimaced, and pushed myself off the bed. "I'm sure I just need to sleep," I muttered, trying to peek at the notes, while heading for the exit.

"Major, sit down," Beckett ordered. He was standing up, his board slung on his hip, and I could tell by the look on his face that I'd done it now.

I paused where I was, which was about half way to the exit. I pondered if making a break for it was the better course. I know he knew what I was thinking, because he looked ready to tackle me. I'd heard rumors that he'd been a linebacker in college, and he looked built for it. I supposed I could take him, but it'd hurt.

We endured the stand off for a few minutes, and I almost went for it. I wasn't sure where I'd go, but somehow I didn't think going back to that bed docilely was the right choice to make, but how far I'd make it on the lam in the city wasn't entirely clear. McKay would figure out how to find me, I was sure of it. I bit my lip, and I never bite my lip. Beckett narrowed his eyes, and clutched the board tighter, as if it were a pigskin. _Damn_, I thought.

I caved. I let my muscles relax, and I headed back for the bed. The relief in Carson's eyes was palpable. Obviously, he hadn't wanted to take me down. Either he wasn't as good as I'd heard, or he just wasn't up for the physical strain today. I hopped up, and eyed him uneasily. "I'm not crazy," I stated, as much for myself, as for him.

"I didn't say you were," he replied.

Now he was making me nervous. He wasn't saying much, and that bothered me more than if he wouldn't shut up. "What are you going to do?"

He seemed to consider me, and then put the chart beside my leg. "Observation, Major. See if you have any more of these episodes."

I relaxed. Observation isn't so bad. I could do that. There were even some cute nurses in the infirmary, that blonde one had a bit of a thing for me, I could tell. There were worse ways to spend a few days. I'd have to get Teyla to bring me some decent food. I'd enlist McKay's help, but I was still leery of him since the electrocution incident, whether it was innocent or not, and besides, his idea of cuisine was a power bar.

Beckett handed me some scrubs, and told me to get dressed. I guess he meant undressed, since the change amounted to putting less on. I preferred to stay dressed. "Can I "

"No," Beckett interrupted, giving me a severe look.

Okay then. I took the scrubs, and waited until he'd pulled the privacy curtain shut around my bed. I shucked my pants, and slipped on the loose pink ones. The shirt went next. At least scrubs weren't as bad as a gown. I'd said it before, but it always bears repeating. Gowns let a whole lot more of a person show, and while I didn't mind being the one doing the checking out, I hated having the distinct feeling that _I_ was the piece of meat up on the auction plate.

"Are you decent?" Carson called from behind the curtain.

"Yeah," I replied, and busied myself with folding my clothes neatly. It's a thing with me.

The curtain was pulled back, and revealed not Beckett, but a Wraith, standing in Carson's white lab coat, and regarding me kindly. It even had a stethoscope around its neck. I froze, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, while my mind tried to tell my body that it wasn't real. The problem with that, was that every sense was sending signals, and those signals were screaming Wraith! The smell, the sight, and I knew if I reached out to touch him, it'd be that cold, dry skin that managed to have a touch of sliminess.

My body finally responded to my panicked thoughts, and I jumped backwards, but the bed was in my way, and I ended up falling over it. The Wraith was coming at me, and I scrambled back, trying desperately to get away. It was saying something, but I would've had to stay still, and let it reach me, in order to hear what it said.

I saw other Wraith swarm in, and all I could think of was to get away. I started hitting anything that came near me, as hard as I could, and I cut a swath of bodies, as I fought to get out of the infirmary. I had almost made it, just a few more steps, when I felt something sting my arm. I looked up, surprised, and saw the Beckett Wraith pulling a needle out of my skin. "God damn it," I managed, before I slumped to the ground, bonelessly.

* * *

AN: Debenham, I get that from personal experience and hints off the show, and perhaps it is more of a thing that is implied as a whole, and nothing hard to grasp. Most people hate hospitals (including myself), and we also know that John is a guy that wants to be in control, and he's headstrong, we've seen that throughout season one. I also caught a bit from Suspcion, when he returns to the gateroom after the stunner bit. He's shaky on his feet (hence he heads right for the chair), and he blows off that he shouldn't be there with an off-hand comment. That's really the basis I have for it, those things, and his dynamic personality. Is there reasonable canon for it, maybe not, but we haven't gotten to see a lot either way, so for now, it fits for what I believe. I do hear you, don't get me wrong, but I guess what I'm trying to say, sometimes we have to go with our assumptions and gut feelings on what we see the character as being like, and hope we get it as close to canon as we can. 

redick4, yes, first person! I know it's a first for me with stories, but I've written a lot of first person humor shorts based upon my kid's guniea pig (you'd have to read it to understand, but it involves hairy escapes, rescues, and big toys).

And, for everyone else, thank you so much, glad everyone is like the story! Hopefully this chapter won't dissappoint!


	4. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**

* * *

Chapter Four**

**Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

* * *

**

I was becoming aware of noises around me. I heard the soft shuffling of feet, and murmured voices; in their effort to keep quiet they spoke in hushed tones, but it only served to remind me of a funeral. I wasn't dead, so what's up with the walking on eggshells around me?

I opened my eyes, and was surprised to find McKay staring at me. If I hadn't been strapped down, I probably would've fallen out of the bed. As it was, I jerked back, as far as you can go on an infirmary mattress with your wrists and ankles tied down, and the movement sent waves of nausea rolling through my gut. "_Jesus_, McKay, what the hell are you doing?" I snarled. Surprisingly, my voice worked pretty good, which meant I hadn't been out for long.

"One could ask you the same thing?" McKay retorted, and he ran an angry hand through his thin hair. "What were you doing, attacking Beckett, and the infirmary crew? You know that blond nurse that has a crush on you? I wouldn't worry about it anymore."

I groaned. _Damn_. I had gone berserk, thinking they were Wraith, and even though I knew in that rational part of my mind, that it was a hallucination, my body had reacted on pure reflex, and I had tried to get the hell out of there before I was dinner. "I thought they were Wraith," I explained.

"Apparently," McKay drawled.

I saw him move to my right side, pulling his head back from hovering over me, and heard him sit down in a chair. The downside to his change in location, I had to crane my head to make eye contact. What kind of small talk do you make? _Nice to see you, sorry I flipped out_, seemed kind of lame given the circumstances. Of course, it could be worse. They could have actually _been_ Wraith.

"So," I twisted my neck, trying to look inconspicuous, which is kind of hard to do strapped down, "I guess I've acted a little crazy lately."

I heard McKay snort in his arrogant '_you don't know the half of it'_ way. "A little?"

I stared at the ceiling, trying to find something inane to focus on. I swear that was a spitball hanging to the right of the light. I made a mental note to talk to Ford, had to be him, he was a little kid in a six foot body. "Just tell me Beckett has a clue what's going on?"

Now I heard Rodney shift in his self-conscious manner. Who needed to look when you could hear everything the guy did? I had dubbed him open-book McKay, and never a truer statement had been said. "Not exactly."

"What _exactly_ does he know?" I questioned acerbically.

McKay paused. I wasn't sure what was the cause of the delay, so I tore my gaze off the spitball, as fun as staring at it was, and contorted to the side to see him looking uncomfortable. "Well?" I prodded.

"He knows you're seeing things."

I stared at McKay. A second passed, and then another, and I could tell Rodney was wishing he was anywhere but here. I couldn't help it. I laughed. Of all the weird situations, this is one for the books. I was going crazy, and the best that the Chief Medical Officer could come up with, was that I was seeing things. Well give the dog a bone, and spank the Sparky, because that was about as obvious as the nose on McKay's face.

"I don't see what is so amusing, Major," Rodney huffed. "You could be suffering a psychotic break, or something."

"Or something," I said. It wasn't funny, but a psychotic break? Me? _Never_.

"I see you're looking better, Lad."

Beckett. I didn't reply to the better comment because clearly I had knocked him a good one, as there was nothing better about going from being a functioning individual, to a restrained man, and waiting for the next freak out episode of the day. When this was done and over, I'd have to give Carson some lessons in small talk.

Sure enough, his face peered down at me, and I inwardly winced at the damage. Hot damn, but I had slugged him a good one. His right eye was a mixture of black, and blue, and purples. The yellow and greens wouldn't kick in for a few days, and when they did, it'd be a spectacular show. That alone was bad enough, but as my eyes traveled downward I noted the swollen jaw and cracked lip. "Uh, Doc?" I cleared my throat nervously. "You aren't going to hold that against me, are you?"

I wasn't in a good position here. I'd beaten the one guy up whom at this moment, had total control. Carson smiled wide. "I'd never, Major."

McKay stood, and I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was brushing off his pants. What was on his pants? _Crumbs_? Ten to one, he'd smuggled in power bars, and been munching away while I lay senseless. What _was_ it with him and eating? I hadn't totally bought the hypoglycemia thing, not yet, at least. I was still begrudging him the one he'd asked for when I'd been about two steps away from death on the Jumper. That bug had been killing me, and he was _hungry_?

"McKay, bring my football game," I asked him. We had plenty of computers that could play it, all they'd need to do is prop me up, and I'd be entertained for hours. Hail Mary, and all that, the popcorn could wait, although, they'd have to free my hands eventually so I could eat.

Beckett was shaking his head no before the words had barely passed my lips. Rodney shrugged, and gave me his best '_I tried'_, before heading out the door.

I waited, seething, for Beckett to explain himself. He busied himself taking my vitals, and shoved a thermometer in my mouth. What the hell good did a thermometer do? I'd think I'd know it if my hallucinations were the result of a high fever, if anything, I was freezing. The infirmary was kept cooler than the other rooms, and they'd only covered me in a sheet. I was still dressed in the scrubs, but the thin material did little to retain heat.

Beckett took the instrument out, checked the reading, and noted another number on my chart. He seemed blasé, and I was beginning to get that uncomfortable buzzing in the back of my mind. "Doc?"

He held the clipboard in front of him, almost as if it were a shield that'd protect him from another attack. He sighed. "I'll be honest, Major. I don't have a clue what's going on with you."

You know that saying about the truth hurting? Scratch that, the truth sucks. My Doctor, my lifeline out of this mess, was brutally blunt, and telling me he had no idea what was causing me to see things that weren't real. No ideas, no maybes, no possibilities, just an _'I don't know'_. That wasn't the answer I wanted, and it wasn't the answer I needed.

I wasn't ready to voice McKay's suggestion, so I worked my jaw, trying to find words. "Can I go?" What the heck, right? He had no idea, and they couldn't keep me locked up indefinitely.

"Absolutely not," Beckett looked like I'd hit him again. If the situation hadn't been as rotten as it was, I probably would've laughed. Apparently the linebacker had been given a run for his money. It's funny what you can do when you're operating on pure adrenalin. "We're going to keep you for observation, and then "

"And then you don't know what you'll do, is that right?" I snarled. Now I was starting to get mad. Whatever was going on, I'd been cognizant since I had awoken, and I was getting tired of being immobile, and the open-ended timeframe for my stay wasn't making the situation look any better from my view. "At least take these off," I yanked up at the straps. "I'm not seeing things."

"Not now," Beckett declared, and I knew where he was going before he'd finished.

"Post guards, something, come on," I whined. I never whine, but I whined today. I guess there's one limit I've found. I can be put in a position where I will whine to get my way. Before coming here, I'd never have believed it. Of course, before coming here, there was a lot of stuff I never would've believed.

"If you start to notice anything different, you'll tell me, promise?"

"Cross my heart, swear to die, poke a needle in my eye," I repeated the stupid childhood rhyme that I probably said a thousand times as a kid. I don't even know where it came from, but it was spoken before I could take it back. I closed my eyes, jerking my head ever so slightly with disgust. _What the hell was wrong with me_?

When I opened my eyes, Beckett was gone. So, did I scare him off, or was he going to recruit my jailers, and let me up? I waited, and I tried to stay awake, but I found that my eyes were drooping shut of their own accord, and soon I was snoring blissfully unaware of the passage of time.

* * *

When next I awoke, the restraints were gone. I pushed myself up, and rubbed my wrists where the material had caused a fair amount of chafing. I must have been a restless sleeper, because I didn't recall it hurting before. I noticed about the same time that Markham and Stackhouse were guarding me. I smiled cockily, and gave them a small wave. They stood at attention, and as still as stone guards over an ancient cathedral. What was up with that? 

I pushed myself off the bed, and that drew a reaction. Stackhouse came forward, ever so slightly. "What are you doing, Major?"

"I'm just using the little airmen's room, Sergeant."

Score one for the officer, that caused Markham to crack a small smile, but it was gone before it'd barely registered. I headed over, a little gingerly, seems that battle I'd had earlier hadn't left me unscathed either. As I aimed for the bathroom, I passed by Beckett's office, and I heard my name. Curious, I lingered, acting as if I had dropped something. There's a reason why those two were Sergeant's, because if they'd had their wits about them, they would've realized I didn't have anything to drop.

Instead, they seemed to be content that I wasn't making a break for it, and that was all that mattered. Beckett was talking to someone, sounded like Weir, and he said the test results on me were inconclusive. I heard Elizabeth's voice in the radio piece, but it was only noise, I couldn't make out individual words. Carson's reply caused my blood to freeze in my veins.

I panicked. I had to get out of here. Autopsy, what was going on here? Carson had told Elizabeth the only way they could determine what was happening, was to examine my brain. My _brain_! I threw a furtive look over my shoulder. Stackhouse and Markham looked ready to pounce. They had sensed something was wrong. The thing of it was, they'd made a crucial mistake. I was closer to the exit than they were. And, I had the ability to manipulate Atlantis tech unlike anyone else, certainly those two.

I bolted. I slid out the door, and willed it shut, and imagined the door locking behind me, and indeed, I heard the pounding and yelling on the other side, letting me know I had been successful. I had my back against the wall, and was checking out the corridor. There were a few people walking by, and they were staring at me, and taking mental notes. I had to find an area of the city that was isolated.

That'd be about as easy as taking candy from a baby. I thought about stopping by my quarters, but figured they'd be two steps ahead of me if I did that. By now, Beckett had sounded the alarm. It wasn't without some irony, that the claxons began to sound throughout the city.

"Attention everyone, this is Doctor Weir," Elizabeth's voice boomed over the citywide communications. "As some of you may know, Major Sheppard is suffering from some type of illness, the origin we are uncertain of. He is suffering from hallucinations, and should be considered armed and dangerous. He's escaped from the infirmary, and we need to get him back under Doctor Beckett's care as soon as possible. Please, if anyone knows of his whereabouts, contact myself, Sergeant Bates or Doctor Beckett."

_Damn,_ now he had to get out of sight immediately. He took off at a dead run, heading down the corridor away from the milling people who were whispering, and pointing. He rounded the corner, and ran full force into McKay, and we went tumbling to the ground in a heap of body parts.

"Sheppard, what the ?"

I pushed myself off of McKay, and was getting to my feet. "Sorry, McKay, no time to talk." I patted him on his shoulder, but before I could take off, he grabbed my legs, and tackled me down to the floor.

"Son of a bitch, let go!" I swore, trying to free my legs from his hold.

"Stop fighting," McKay snapped. "I'm trying to help you!"

I stilled. "How?"

"I can hide you, get you food and water."

I narrowed my eyes, searching Rodney's face for any sign of subterfuge. "Why?"

"Because I've uncovered a conspiracy. They're out to take over, Major, and they're behind your episodes."

I continued to stare for a minute, debating whether to believe him or not. "You've got proof?"

McKay shook his head, "Not yet."

I'm not one for waffling. You make your mind up, and you do it. Debating a decision too long can lead to disaster. I had to either trust McKay, or not, and if I was wrong, I might end up on the wrong end of a scalpel. I looked at those intense blue eyes, which were staring back, and neither of us blinked, or broke eye contact. "Okay," I said, and I hoped it was the right choice.

We got to our feet, and he grabbed my arm, and I almost pulled back and ran, but soon he was propelling me forward. "I know of a lab we explored before. It's off of any main areas, and since it's already been explored, it's safe."

I was letting myself be led through the maze of the city, and McKay had taken us on a path that was deserted, as empty as my hopes of getting out of this were becoming. I didn't know what was going on. Who could I trust? Was McKay only leading me to a worse end? I let my eyes close, just for a second, and continued to follow, like the trusting soldier, and hoped Rodney was the one I could trust to make sense of this insanity that I had tumbled into. If I couldn't believe him, whom could I believe? I couldn't even trust myself.

* * *

AN: This is an edited version of chapter 4, had to fix a few of my, ahem liberal uses of a certain four-letter word. Also, rudhweth, very good point! I spent the day discussing this on an email list trying to figure out a possible fix, or a change I could make, but didn't wind up with anything that really sounded good for what I was trying to do, so, this might end up contradicted down the road because we've got limited background info. I'm going to assume, for the mercy of the story, that he attended medical school in the US, and therefore, got to play American Football (not European Football-which is soccer to us yanks). I did consider switching to Rugby, but then there's the problem that most of us would be unfamiliar with the positions, so, kind of a rock and a hard place. Just wanted to let you know that you made a very good point, and it's something I'll have to try to keep in mind for other stories definitely! This international thing can be a real PIT...well, you know. :) 

Addendum: rudwheth, I just wanted to let you know, I'm not bothered at all, I tried to make sure you knew that above. I appreciate all comments from readers, and your comment was excellent, and I felt it brought up a very good discrepancy. But, due to the things I mentioned, I decided to let it go as is, but, your question was great, and absolutely right, so please don't think I got upset or bothered, or anything by it. I did some background work to see if it was an easy fix, and couldn't come up with an easy fix, so I left it, however, that doesn't mean you weren't right, okay? I hope this helps you feel better! I value input and I'd hate for anyone to feel otherwise. All constructive input/critiques, is much appreciated. The same goes for debenham's comments. I think she had a valid complaint, and I explained my view on the issue. Okay, slinking back to work on the story, chapter 5 is completed, and will be arriving soon!


	5. The Real McKay

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* * *

Chapter Five**

**The Real McKay

* * *

**

McKay had been dragging me down corridor after corridor, except for the occasional transporter ride, for probably the last ten minutes. I had tried to keep a mental map, but my mind was grinding at half-capacity, why I wasn't quite sure, but everything was a bit off.

"What's up with the rat maze?" I finally asked, trying to control my breathing, which was becoming labored, and that stitch in my side was growing more demanding.

McKay paused as we came to another corner, and his eyes darted down one side, and up the other, reminding me of a nervous rat. "I want to make sure we're not being followed."

"I think you've done that," I panted. I gave in to my side, and bent over, sucking in a large mouthful of air. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

He opened a door. I hadn't even realized we were standing in front of a door. He yanked me in, which almost caused me to fall, because I was still hunched over. I yelped, as I flailed my arms trying to gain my balance. McKay grabbed my arm, steadying me, and shot me a sheepish look. "Sorry."

I bobbed my head, acknowledging his apology, before finding the nearest chair. Or, rather, I _tried_ to find the nearest chair. "McKay, there's nowhere to sit."

"Look, I wasn't planning on this so soon, you ran into _me_, remember," McKay said defensively. "I was trying to find out more before coming to you, but apparently," and here he threw me a dirty look, "things went downhill faster than I anticipated."

"It wasn't my fault," I shot back. "Beckett was talking about looking at my brain." I couldn't help the shiver that danced down my spine. I'd prefer to keep my brain right where it was. The lack of a chair didn't mean I couldn't sit, it just meant I wouldn't enjoy it as much. I found a spot against some counter, and slid down, enjoying the cold support of the metal behind me. "This another lab?"

He rolled his eyes. "Aren't they all?" McKay headed over to a desk that the Ancients had installed against one of the walls. "I don't think these people knew the meaning of recreation."

I snorted. "And you do?"

"Shut up." He didn't even grace me with a dirty look for that one; he was too intent on the display he was reading.

I debated getting sucked into one of our usual exchanges, but frankly, I was too tired. I'd been hallucinating, drugged out, strapped down, and escaped from the infirmary, from the very people who should be helping me, not hunting me down. And, here I was, hiding in one of the many labs in the city, with McKay no less, and I still had no idea when someone had tossed me through the looking glass. Did I get exposed to something when I was flying the Athosian's to the mainland? Was it the food I ate right after? What, and when, I just wanted answers.

"So," I started casually. "Care to explain what's going on?"

McKay finished punching buttons, and looked up at me triumphantly. "There," he said smugly. "We should be hidden from the sensors."

That was cool. "Really?" I couldn't help being impressed.

"Why do you think I'm the head of the science department, because I'm the oldest?"

I smirked; he totally walked into this one. "The mouthiest, maybe the most arrogant, cocky, annoying "

"Ha ha ha, you're a regular comedian, you know that?" He came over and sat down beside me. "Do you want to know, or sling insults?"

Déjà vu, because hadn't we had this conversation before? I almost told him that I was partial to the insults just because he was pissing me off, but didn't he always, sometimes it just took a little longer to get there. "Tell me what's going on." I kept my voice remarkably neutral, even surprised myself.

He sat stiff beside me, and I felt the warmth of his leg against mine. McKay was always hot. He was like this miniature furnace. It's one of the theories I have on why he eats all the time. If he ever stops, his fire will die, and he'll burn out. "This is going to sound weird," he cautioned.

Like it wasn't already? "Welcome to my life," I spouted. For pity's sake, Weir had tried to seduce me, and Beckett had become a Wraith, I think I'd covered weird for the day.

Rodney seemed to consider my outburst. "Right, well, this is weirder, then."

I was losing my patience. "Get on with it, McKay."

He appeared flustered. "Okay, okay. Look, Weir and Beckett want to take over Atlantis. You're in the way, so they are trying to get you out of the picture."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was right, that was weirder. Was everyone on something? Maybe I wasn't the only one affected.

McKay must have been reading my mind, because he rushed into further explanation. "They spiked your food, some drug that Beckett said would cause you to lose it, then they could lock you away. I heard them, Major."

"You have proof?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I was trying to get it when you made your," he paused and smirked, probably remembering my crashing into him, "great escape."

"If you hadn't been in the way," I defended, "It would've been a perfectly fine escape."

"Yeah, whatever." He seemed at a loss for any further conversation and settled into a lapse of awkward quiet.

I didn't know what to do. Can you believe that? Major John 'do it or die' Sheppard, did not know what to do. I'd seen a lot of things, done a lot of things, but I was like a fish out of water. Should I try and get McKay to do recon, should I even trust McKay, or maybe go back and force Beckett and Weir to explain their side? What if it was everyone, then nobody could be trusted, and if I tried to talk to Weir, I might end up back in the infirmary. That trick worked once, it wouldn't work twice.

"Do you need anything? You feeling okay?" McKay spoke suddenly.

I turned to him, not hiding the stupefied feeling. "I'm sitting here in scrubs, no chair, no food, no blankets, I'd say I needed some things, and no, I'm not feeling okay. If they drugged me, what's it do? Does it have some kind of half-life?"

"It's not radioactive," McKay snapped, offended by my reaction I suppose. It's not my fault. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.

I let my head fall back against the counter, wincing at the thud, but in a way it felt good, to actually feel something normal, like the pain from hitting your head. "Just…get me some clothes, food, pillows, blankets…anything."

I guess I must've presented a pitiful picture, sitting there dejected, and unsure of even myself. He got up, brushed off his pants, and regarded me with a hard look. "I'll be back. It might be a while, trying to get away without being seen, especially bringing supplies," he paused, searching for the right words I guess, "just hang tight."

I waved a hand, not moving anything else. "I'm hanging," I muttered. Flying, hanging, soaring, screaming, running…who knew.

I heard the sound of his feet, and the whoosh of the door, bet you didn't know that those doors actually do make a whooshing sound, just like in Star Trek. I always thought it was a cheap sound effect, but nope, they really do. I debated on stretching out on the ground, searching the room, or staying where I was. In the end, staying won, and I let my eyes slide closed. Damn, but I was tired. If they'd drugged me, that explained a lot. Why I wasn't quite all there. I drifted off with scenes of Jack Nicholson's mad face flashing big, and bigger in my mind.

* * *

"Major."

Someone was slapping my face. It was a light tap, not hard, but they were trying to wake me up. I opened my eyes, expecting to see McKay, but Elizabeth was leaning over me, concerned, and kind.

I wheeled back, but realized the counter was behind me. I swallowed. "Elizabeth?"

"You'll be okay, we found you, and we're going to help you," she said. She pulled back, and revealed Beckett, who was standing beside a gurney, and he was wearing a white doctor's coat, latex gloves, one of those headlamps, and in his hands was a massive drill, like the kind you see on those home renovations shows.

"Wha…what are you…doing?" I stuttered. I was still trying to shake off my sleepiness.

"We're just going to help you, Son," Beckett crooned, and patted the gurney softly, beckoning me over.

_Like hell_, I thought, and scrambled to my feet. I felt behind me, looking for the end of the counter without taking my eyes off Beckett and Weir, and when I felt the counter come to an end, I backed away, searching out the door.

Beckett and Weir were staring at me, but they didn't come after me, or even talk. I felt the door open behind me, the breeze from the hallway cool on my skin. I turned and ran, willing the door shut, if anything to give me a few minutes head start. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I had to get out of there.

I ran till I couldn't go any farther. My side had me doubled over, gasping from the exertion. Something was definitely wrong. I shouldn't be this exhausted, and unable to run, or do any kind of physical effort. I threw my back against the wall angrily. I had my hands on my knees, and looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure out where I was. It looked like the south pier, where the entity had been found. When I had gotten enough oxygen back into my system, and my breathing evened out, I started heading towards that lab. Why, I don't know, but it was something familiar.

McKay had told me he'd fixed the sensors, so they wouldn't find me. Either he'd lied, and set me up, or Weir and Beckett had found me by luck, or some other means; maybe we'd been seen going in. I needed to find McKay, alone, and see for myself if he was on the up and up. The only problem was, could I trust my own senses?

"Major!"

_Shit_. Bates!

"Don't do it, Major."

I'd been getting ready to run. I don't know how far I'd make it, but I wasn't going to lie down like a dog, and be dragged away to the pound. "They're trying to kill me, Sergeant."

"Who's trying to kill you?"

"Weir and Beckett." I was stalling him, biding my time, as long as he was listening; his full attention wasn't on me. It was a little trick I'd learned in some of my more interesting military training.

"That's ridiculous," Bates spat. "You're under the influence of an alien chemical. They want to help you, Major." Bates' tone lowered, grew more cajoling, like he was trying to entice a wayward child to cross the bridge, even though they had the irrational fear they'd fall in if they did.

"It's not ridiculous," I shouted back, and I was still facing forward. I'd counted the paces to the corner. If I ran, took a dive, I could make it, and then I hoped there'd be something I could duck in. I tried to frantically remember if there was a transporter anywhere near.

I heard Bates coming closer. Now or never, I leapt for it, but Bates hadn't gone to the same school as Markham and Stackhouse, and I felt the blast from the stunner hit, before everything went black.

* * *

"Let me out!" I snarled. I had woken to find myself back in the infirmary, hands and feet strapped down, and I was scared to death. No one was there. I'd hollered for minutes at a time, and no one, not even a stray nurse, came into the room.

I was getting hoarse, and more than a little freaked out. Did something happen? Did they catch me, and then everyone left. "Anyone!" I tried again, but my voice broke at the end, and it hurt. I needed water, badly. I tried to lick my dry lips, but my mouth wasn't much better.

How long had I been here? I couldn't see the clock, and they'd taken my watch earlier. Where was McKay? I gave another violent tug on the straps, before closing my eyes, overcome by the frustration.

"Major?"

My eyes popped open so fast they would've suffered whiplash if they'd been my neck. "Doctor Weir," I drawled nastily, but the effect was kind of wasted, because it came out like a half-dead frog's last croak.

She frowned. "John, we're trying to help you."

"Then let me go," I snarled. Again, the words were lost by the state of my dry mouth. This wasn't any good. It was hard to be an ass when you were losing your voice. "Water?" I asked, giving in, and making a request.

She nodded, and I noticed a nurse had materialized by her side. The nurse was the blonde one I had socked, because her left eye was a beaut. I felt a small pang of sympathy, but it passed when I remembered the position I was in. Still, I sipped from the straw greedily. She had to pull it away, because I wasn't stopping.

"Better?" Elizabeth asked, and she actually seemed to care.

I nodded warily.

"You were exposed to an alien chemical while searching one of the labs, Doctor Beckett is trying to synthesize a counteragent, but so far he hasn't found anything." She explained, pulling up a chair.

I refused to look at her. I found an interesting spot on the ceiling and stared at it, acting like there was a dancing revue of half-naked girls going by. "I don't remember."

She sighed, and I could tell she probably had that half-worried, but half-annoyed look to her. "It's the chemical, Carson said it induces a type of amnesia."

Not buying it. "McKay said you two were trying to get me out of the picture, so you could take over." As soon as I said it, I realized I shouldn't have. If it was true, I'd just given McKay up. If it wasn't true, I'd dug my bed in the soft restraints even deeper.

"Really," and now I could hear the smile in her words. "That's…interesting."

Okay, now I wanted to look. I turned my head, and sure enough, she was smiling, and it was beautiful, and I realized how I longed to see it. Just a normal, nice, happy smile, on a face I'd come to know and trust. "I know it sounds crazy," I said. I wasn't quite ready to discard McKay's information, but maybe if I pretended to trust her, I'd find a way to get them to ease up on the straps, just enough. And maybe, I wanted to believe her.

"Did someone say my name?"

Elizabeth smiled wider. "John was telling me about the conspiracy you told him about."

McKay walked up to Weir's side, and clasped his hands in front of his legs, and he wasn't quite smiling, but he looked okay. He didn't look upset, or worried that Weir was going to arrest him, or kill either of us. "Conspiracy?"

"Yeah, you know the one where they drugged me with something to make me think I was losing it, and planned on taking over with me out of the way," I prodded his memory, and waited for his reaction, which was absolutely nothing. He didn't even blink.

"That's good," he crowed. "I'd like some of what he's having."

"No, you wouldn't," I snarled, and if I could've come up off that bed, I would've slugged the beady-eyed bastard. My whole world was coming unraveled, and he was making a joke.

"Testy, testy, who peed in your cheerios?" he said churlishly.

"Apparently the Ancients," I deadpanned. I didn't know who to believe. Was it all an act? Did it even happen? "I did escape, right?"

I saw the smooth skin between Weir's eyes wrinkle, soft furrows echoing her puzzlement. "Escape?"

"The infirmary, earlier. Bates shot me with a Wraith stunner, and dragged me back," I explained.

Bewildered looks met my words. I closed my eyes, tight, so tight I saw stars and moons flashing on the backs of my eyelids, like some Pink Floyd video. This could not be happening. _This could not be happening_. I opened them, and found McKay and Weir were gone. I yanked against the straps, rewarded with more chafing. Still bound. Why couldn't _that_ change with the blink of an eye? I closed my eyes again. I wasn't getting out of here any time soon, and I didn't want to holler myself into hoarseness again. Who knew when I'd get more water, and I still had that slim hope, in the back recesses of my mind, that I'd wake up, and all of this would be a bad dream. A nightmare, and we would laugh about it over breakfast. It didn't take long for my mind to slide into the soft grip of slumber, the only place I could escape the growing insanity of my world.

* * *

AN: Just want to say another big thank you for the reviews, and rudhweth, seriously, I hope you don't feel bad. Drop me an email, I really don't want you to feel upset over your brilliant catch (and I do think it was)! Anyway, hope you all are feeling as mind-frelled as our poor boy here! 


	6. PingPong John

**AN: You guys thought last chapter made you lose it, wait till you finish this one! **

**

* * *

Chapter Six**

**Ping – Pong John

* * *

**

"Major," McKay called. He was shaking my shoulder. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin.

I shot a hand out, on instinct, to cease the shaking, and felt my hand connect, and grasp his wrist. I opened my eyes, confused to find, that I was, in fact, holding McKay's wrist, and not only that, but I was sitting against the counter I'd fallen asleep against earlier.

I stared at the room, stunned. I'd been in the infirmary, Bates had caught me, and McKay hadn't known anything about any conspiracy. I licked my lips, struggling to make sense out of everything.

"What's wrong?" Rodney was staring at me, and he kept looking behind him, as if he thought I was seeing something that he couldn't, and wasn't sharing the secret.

I sat up straighter, pushing myself with a slow tentative movement, because I was beginning to worry that if I blinked, or moved too fast, everything might change. "Have I " I stopped, getting lost in my thoughts, trying to put sense to the disorder, then tried again, "I've been here." I stated it in such a way that it came out as one needing assurance of the obvious. I looked around again, verifying that Weir and Beckett weren't lurking, or Bates. "The whole time you were gone?"

I saw McKay's forehead wrinkle. He looked around, following my earlier examination. "Of course, why?"

"Of course," I echoed, and anyone who was careful, would've picked up on the hysterical edge.

My mouth had gone as dry as the Sahara. I sucked the bottom of my lip inward, and bit the corner, trying to gain my bearings. It felt like someone was playing a sick joke on me, you know the kind where you put something down, and someone moves it when you look away, and then you wonder if you're more screwed up from the party the night before than you thought, because you could've swore you set those keys by the phone, and now they're by the water cooler.

"McKay…I…I think I'm really starting to lose it here," I confessed, my words tumbling over themselves.

"Just relax, it'll be over before you know it," McKay whispered, leaning towards me, and almost caressing my face.

I jumped back, branded from the shock, and slapped his arm away, lurching to my feet. _Oh God, not again_. I spun towards the door, wanting out, _anywhere_, as long as it wasn't here. I needed to find somewhere to hide, to try and escape from these crazy hallucinations. Was McKay even really here?

"Major!" McKay hollered. "It's not real," he stressed, and he sounded so damn honest, and normal, and for an instant I thought maybe I could believe him. I stopped my flight out the door and looked over my shoulder at Rodney. But, it wasn't McKay anymore, just a dreamt-up facsimile, because this McKay was wearing a Cat in the Hat costume, complete with white powdered face, a big black rubber nose, and pointed whiskers.

I couldn't fight the hysterical laughter that bubbled forth. "Thing one, you've been a bad, bad boy," I wavered a pointed finger at him, "Go back to your box," and I turned and left, didn't even bother to run this time, because he wasn't real. He wouldn't come after me, because he didn't exist.

I wandered, weaving a drunken mad path through the empty halls, finding it ironic that my feet were as misled as my mind. I stopped at a door. There wasn't anything special about it, but I bent my mind towards it opening, and it did, so I heaved myself inside, and fell against the nearest wall. I was exhausted. The fatigue was pulling at me, like an insidious leech, taking away part of me bit by bit, until there'd be nothing left.

I was afraid to close my eyes. If I went to sleep I might wake up in the infirmary, strapped down, and facing who knew what. I didn't know if I could trust Weir, or Beckett, or McKay. I hadn't seen Ford, or Teyla. Maybe I could find them? I felt my head falling towards my knees, and I jerked it back, forcing my eyes to open wider. I had to stay awake.

I had to walk. I had to get back on my feet; otherwise I'd succumb to the tiredness, and the madness. I leaned over, throwing my hands out to brace myself, and levered my body up, knee to foot, and then the other, grabbing on to the nearest counter. I leaned against it, breathing heavy, and letting my head loll to the side, just for that brief moment. _God, I was tired_.

_Think, John, think_, I berated myself mentally. I had to concentrate, and quit losing track. My mind was hopping all over the place, like a broken record, with a needle that kept jumping every time it hit a damaged groove.

Was there truth in the madness? Was the answer being lost in the nightmare of everything else? Had I been exposed to something, and all this was a hallucination? What if I wasn't even here, what if my body was lying somewhere in the city, and this was all a dream within a dream within a dream? Now that's messed up, because how would I ever know what was real? Maybe this was real? I hadn't 'skipped' since I had woken back in the other room.

I hadn't seen anyone since I'd walked away from McKay. Shouldn't there be people? I shivered, and realized with shock, I was still wearing those same stupid pink scrubs, but they were looking dirty, and sweat stained. I'd been in them a while, but they were the one constant. Everything else was changing, but I remained in the scrubs, so maybe I was in the infirmary. Maybe that reality was the right one?

I scrubbed a desperate hand over my face, and felt the abrasive chafing. I paused, my hands still against the sides of my jaw, and moved them up and down, in short jerks, stubble that had to be a few days accumulation, going off the feel of it. If I could count on my physical characteristics, then this had been a few days worth of madness. I tried to think back to what I had been doing three or four days back. It'd been after we caught Steve. Or, had it? _Damn_, I couldn't think straight.

I heard a noise behind me, and I turned, but my body wasn't cooperating, and my movements were sluggish, and stunted. I caught a glimpse of a uniform, before I was tackled to the ground. I blinked stupidly, trying to clear my eyesight, and figure out who had found me. I groaned when I finally made out the grinning face. _Ford_.

"Got you, Major," he said.

And that was the last thing I heard, because my body lost the battle to stay awake, and I tilted into the netherworld, drifting back into the only place where I wasn't insane.

* * *

I rolled onto my side. Awareness had been returning in short leaps. I heard noises, felt the sensations of sheets against my skin, the cool breeze of someone walking by, causing the blanket to flutter where it hung off the bed. I was back in the infirmary, and this time I wasn't restrained. That caused my mind to shake off the tattered remnants of slumber. I tried to open my eyes, but found they were sticking shut. It took a few tries, but finally I got them to respond, and I could see the room.

It was bright, and it hurt my eyes initially, but after my eyes adjusted, I could make out some nurses whispering in a corner. I craned my head around, not wanting to move just yet, searching for a familiar face. I didn't see any of my team, or Beckett. Maybe that was a good thing. I idly wondered how long it'd take before this reality would shatter into so many pieces that I'd never find them all again.

As if on cue, McKay sauntered in. He leered at one of the nurses, and seeing me staring at him, pasted on a cheerful smile, and headed my way. "Good to see you up," he said. He stood at the end of my bed, and folded his broad arms across his chest. I hadn't noticed his biceps were that thick, when'd that happen? Huh, he could probably take me in an arm wrestling match.

"Up?" I pointedly looked at my toes, just inches from his belly. You know, if I kicked just so, he'd fold like a faulty card table.

"Yeah, about that," he got all serious, "Do you remember anything?"

"Which time?" I asked waspishly.

"What?"

Obviously, I'd been here before, but _he_ hadn't. I was actually feeling pretty amazed at my ability to remain calm. I was approaching this with a cooler head. But, I was getting sick of trying to look up at him, and my neck was starting to hurt. "Could you ," I gestured at the back of the bed. I'd do it, but my muscles felt like Jell-o, and not the good kind, the off-brand, that never set as solid as the real stuff.

He unfolded his arms, catching on to my need, and bumbled over to the side of the bed, searching for the lever that'd raise the back of the bed, letting me sit upright instead of lying flat. "How's that?"

"Better," I replied appreciatively. "So, tell me, how long have I been here this time?"

He was still standing next to me, and he looked down, and from the look on his face, he really didn't know what I meant. "You've said that twice, what are you talking about?"

I shook my head. I didn't have the strength to get into it with him, and what would it matter; this would only disappear again, like smoke in the wind. It was only tangible while I had my eyes open. "I liked your old look better," I muttered, relishing an inside joke that he'd never get.

"Beckett, I think you'd better get in here," Rodney shouted, and he was directly overhead, causing me to wince from the noise level. That had to have been approaching eighty decibels. I must really be freaking him out. Good. They could all have tickets to the show; I was tired of being the only one in the roller coaster ride.

Carson came out of his office, like the good little lap dog he was, a Scottish terrier, and I laughed at the picture, just add a plaid bow right there . He frowned at my behavior, but sorry, can't help it, and it wouldn't matter anyway. "How are you feeling, Major?"

"Just fine Doc, hunky dory, never felt better!" and even I was shocked at the maniacal edge.

Carson and Rodney exchanged looks, and it pissed me off more. "Oh come on, you didn't know I was losing it? Last time I was in restraints. What, didn't think I was a threat anymore, or decided to go for a different angle this time? Trick me into thinking everything's okay, and that this is going to last?" I was all but shouting by the time I finished, and could feel the spittle running down my chin, when I finished.

Beckett waved at a nurse, surreptitiously, but I saw him anyway. He saw that I saw, but I didn't bother making a move for it. "Major, you were injured on the flight home, you hit your head "

"Bull shit, Doc, I didn't hit my head. I've been yo-yoed between different realities like some life-sized Sheppard ping-pong ball. I wake up here, I wake up with McKay, I escape, but I wake up here. People are saying things, doing things, and nothing's real." I was shouting again. "Nothing's _real_!" I cried, and all my doubt and fear, were embraced in that last word.

McKay stunned us all, by grabbing my face, each hand on either side, clasping my head, and bringing his down in front of me, and holding my head in a lock, and I couldn't look away. He drilled me with his gaze. "It's _real_, Major. Feel me, my hands. I don't know what's happened, but this is me, McKay, and I'm here." He was holding me like a lifeline tossed out to a drowning man, and he and I both knew I was the one going under.

I heaved in breath after breath, aching with the need to believe it. I wanted to, so badly, but what if I opened my eyes up again, only to find myself somewhere else. I stopped fighting to get out of his grasp, and latched my hands on top of his, and grabbed for all my life depended on it. "I can't," I whispered brokenly. "You'll go away if I sleep." I matched my eyes to his, and saw his blue eyes watering. "It's not real, McKay…it never is."

I felt the pinprick of a needle, and jerked my head to the side, the movement taking McKay off guard, and I was able to see the needle being pulled out of my shoulder. I threw my head back, hard, against the bed. I stared at McKay, and smiled cruelly, "You won't be here when I wake up. _I_ won't be here," and this time I shifted my eyes to Beckett, "You could've at least given me a little while before sending me back."

And then my eyes closed. I didn't want to go. I'd given them hell, but I wanted to believe. I wanted this to be real, and for the past nightmare to come to an end, and I could tell them about the weird things I'd seen, and experienced, and I'd move on, and be normal again. My thoughts muddled, and became disjointed as the sedative took effect. I lost the fight, and surrendered to it once again.

* * *

I don't know how long I slept for, I don't even know if the drug was real. I woke up feeling hung-over from its effects, regardless if it was the placebo effect. My mind dumbly processed the dim lighting, and the fact that I was sitting up. Instinctively, I reached out a hand, and caught McKay's as he was trying to wake me up. I raised my eyes to his, "I'm up," I said, my voice dead and empty. And I slid my eyes back off his wide-eyed owlish stare, and focused on nothing. Nothing was all I could count on. Nothing. 


	7. Break

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Chapter Seven**

**Break

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**

"Come on, Major, eat something," Rodney pleaded.

Since I had woken up in the room where McKay had stashed me from the big bad conspiracy, I had sat, and stared, and done nothing else. I hadn't moved, drank, eaten, and I wasn't even sure if I had blinked.

"No," I answered succinctly.

McKay was mad at me. I could tell because whenever he gets mad, his eyebrows go down, and his mouth tightens in this way that makes it look wider than it normally is, and those lips of his get even thinner. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Now that was funny. I pulled my eyes off of the nothing, and met his angry glare, "Everything, Rodney." And I said it like the calm before the storm, that promises chaos, and destruction in its wake.

I guess I startled him, because he backed off, and began pacing by the console he'd been tapping away at earlier. His efforts had paid off, though, and he didn't even know it. I'd stopped staring at the nothing. This room, and the infirmary, those were two constants. Why these two rooms? McKay was also there, a lot, more than anyone else. Why McKay?

"McKay?" I called.

I saw him turn to me, expectantly. I hated to dash his hope that I was returning to normal. I think normal had been erased, and once you erase something, you can never get it back. I sighed, and pushed myself wearily to my feet. It took me off guard when I faltered, and an agonizing pain sliced through my gut, causing me to reach out for support.

My hands latched on to something solid, and warm. I titled my head upwards, just enough to see who it was, because at this point I didn't trust that it would be McKay, but it was. He was holding my arms, and reaching in further, trying to ease my plight, and help. "Hang on, Major," he crooned. "It's almost over."

I collapsed with the pain. It was unbearable. I closed my eyes, something I'd been fighting against the entire time, but the pain was making me sick, and I would've done anything to escape from it. It felt like someone had reached into my belly, ripped out my guts, wrung them out like a wet towel, and stuck them back in. I shook from the pain. I could feel McKay hand's smoothing my hair, and he was whispering soft words, but I couldn't make out what they were, because all my thought was occupied by the insidious fire eating me alive in my stomach. Blessed relief came when I finally passed out, overwhelmed by the agony that each second rolled through my frame.

* * *

I licked my lips. I was hot, sweating, and writhing from the hurt. I felt a cool hand caress my face, starting from the slicked hair, and moving to my chin, offering a small level of comfort. "Where am I?" I asked, hopelessly, because the answer didn't matter. Whatever was wrong, it was coming to an end either way. 

I've lost track of time. I can't recall the days, or weeks, that may have passed. I no longer know if this bed I lie on is real, or another figment, that will shift before I blink, and I'll wake somewhere else. My world has telescoped to one of pain, and waking in between shifts of reality.

"You're with us, John," Elizabeth's gentle answer washed over me.

I felt a salty tang run across my lip, and knew it was a tear, but whose tears? Who was crying over me? Or was it my own? I blinked away the grit, and focused. I saw Elizabeth, and McKay, and Teyla was behind with Ford. "I'm dying?"

I saw Elizabeth's mouth quiver at my question, and McKay's lips tightened, but this time it wasn't the anger tight, it was the 'stiff upper lip, try to hold it together', tight. The one that meant he'd be out on the balcony later, trying to deal with the events and the emotions they had dredged to the surface. I was surprised to see that reaction for me.

Elizabeth swallowed, and I knew she was fighting to hold it together. "No, John. You're going to be fine, soon, I promise."

I could barely see. The friendly faces that had begun to mean so much, they were blurring, and dim, and I felt the pain growing again, fierce, and angry, and promising another break was around the corner. I felt my body seize uncontrollably, and every muscle flexed, and I couldn't hold back the hoarse scream that ripped forth from my mouth.

And my world tumbled, and broke, and shattered. I saw the past events flow over, and by me, like a pebble tumbled about in a larger stream. McKay twisting the dial, and Weir, in that sexy red top, and the scenes spun madly out of control, like a cranked up carousel ride, slowing at the Beckett Wraith, and speeding up again in time to see Weir and Beckett beckoning to me, Carson stroking his big drill. It exploded into a million pieces and reformed into McKay, wearing his Cat in the Hat suit, and the nurse sliding the needle out of my arm, and a small, miniscule droplet of sedative bubbled on the top layer of my skin, perfect in it's shape.

I arched off the bed. "Help me!" I screamed wildly, and I reached out, and felt my hand grabbed in a grip that promised, whoever it was, would be there, and would never let go. I lost any final attempt to remain sane, to remain cognizant, and everything I knew slid to a halt, and I stopped. I heard shouts, and an incessant constant whine of a machine, and then I didn't know anything.

* * *

"I know you're awake, so quit faking." 

"Go away." I answered him, rewarding his suspicion, but I didn't feel like talking. I cracked an eye, and saw Rodney smiling smugly in a chair next to my bed.

"You're a terrible actor," he said, taking another bite of the perpetual power bar that always seemed to be in his hands.

"Look, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I'm tired, okay?" I wasn't really. Well, I was, but I wasn't, how's that for contradicting, but I think I was entitled, and if I was being truthful, I wasn't entirely convinced this was all real, or just another dream.

I'd woken up after that total, and complete break, where I'd thought I'd died; only to find out I had, died that is. I'd surfaced long enough to find the pain was mostly gone, and I was wearing clean, pink scrubs, and my stubble was gone. I hadn't been all there, from the drugs or God knows, but it wasn't in the sense of the previous psychotic moments. I had recognized Elizabeth on one side, still watching me like a fragile seashell that was going to be washed back out to sea at any minute, and McKay, holding on, and letting go when he saw that I was aware.

Beckett had joined the crew, and I'd tried to stay awake, watching him with lidded eyes, but I'd lost the battle. I felt his strong, reassuring pat on my shoulder, and a murmur of something about being all right now. I wanted to tell him I'd never be all right again.

"You need to talk, since you've come out of it, you won't say a thing, but I know it was bad." McKay took another bite, but he was being serious, Doctor Rodney McKay, physicist and practicing psychologist. "You haven't even asked what happened."

I wondered if he wanted to know the truth. To be faced with my stark reality. I stared at him, bleakly. "Because I haven't begun to trust that you're real. Is that what you want me to talk about? That I'm still waiting to close my eyes, and wake up somewhere else, in that other room, with you."

McKay absorbed my semi-outburst. I say semi, because I didn't have the strength left in me for a full-fledged break down. "Are you ready to hear what happened?"

"No," I answered honestly. Truth be told, I was a little scared to hear. No one had said much of anything yet, and I didn't know if that was a good thing. What if I had suffered a psychotic break? All I knew, was after that intense episode of pain, the constant shifting had stopped, but that was it. I was still in the infirmary, and I was having a hard time thinking clearly.

McKay seemed upset by my answer, angry. "Fine," he stood up, and tossed the wrapper in a trashcan by my bed. "I never took you for a coward, Major." And he stormed out before I could call him back.

I wanted to. I wanted to tell him I wasn't a coward, but maybe, deep inside, I was beginning to believe it myself. Something had gone very wrong with me, and I wasn't ready to face up to it. I still wasn't certain that _it_ was over.

"How are you feeling, Major?"

Elizabeth. I craned my head to look at her. She had walked so softly towards my bed, I hadn't heard her approach. I hoped I hadn't let much show. I tried to keep a poker face on around her, but I was raw, and unbalanced, and laying here without shouting, and crying, was taking all my effort. "Oh, you know, you die once, twice, it's like riding a bike, you never forget how," I cracked.

She tried to smile. She knew it was my lame attempt at a joke. "You really need to quit making a habit of this," she chastised good naturedly, "I think Beckett's getting more than he bargained for."

"Good for the Scottish terrier," I said, and then realized what I had said.

Elizabeth noticed also. "Scottish terrier?"

Now I'd done it. I was trying to keep those memories to myself, at least for the time being. I don't know how much longer I could hold out on not talking, but I guess right now my health wasn't the best, because with the exception of McKay, no one else was pushing me. "Nothing," I said thickly, "It's nothing."

She pulled up the chair, and sat back. "Rodney tells me you still don't want to talk."

I narrowed my eyes, so much for everyone else leaving me alone. "That's right," I answered evenly.

She crossed her legs, and fixed me with her best politicians smile, the kind that make you want to do whatever she asks. "You need to talk about this, John. We only want to help."

"What's there to talk about," I started out deceptively calm, but my emotions were a cauldron of boiling water beneath the surface, "I went nuts."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I said I didn't want to talk about it," I retorted, starting to let my anger show. It wasn't that I didn't want to know, I did, probably more than they could realize, but the thing of it was, I had to make sure this was real. I had to make sure that I wasn't going to go to sleep, and wake up somewhere else. I had to make sure that she wasn't going to try and seduce me, or someone try to feed me bugs, or drill my brains out. So far, so good. I didn't know what had happened. I didn't know why things had changed. I didn't understand any of it, but I was afraid to try.

I saw her stand up. She placed a hand on my arm, just a light touch, then withdrew it. "Okay," and she smiled. "I'll be back later."

I nodded, and closed my eyes. I was tired, and this was just another test. If I fell asleep, and woke up back in this bed, the same way, it'd be one more step towards believing that perhaps this was real.

* * *

AN: First and foremost, thank you so much for continuing to read and review. There is one more chapter, and that's going to be the answer chapter. I promise it should be very interesting! 


	8. Truth is Stranger than Fiction

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* * *

Chapter Eight**

**Truth is Stranger than Fiction

* * *

**

"So, you gonna eat that?" I asked McKay. He had brought a sandwich from the mess, and I was starving. Beckett was trying to keep me on a liquid diet, _still_, though it'd been two days since I'd returned to a sane state of mind.

McKay looked at his turkey sandwich, then back at me, and debated with himself. He shrugged, and handed it over. "You could use it more," he said.

I grabbed it, eagerly unwrapping the plastic, and raised it to my mouth, when out of nowhere, it was grabbed out of my hands, mere inches from my taking a big bite. "What the -"

"I told you, no solid food, Major, for at _least_ another day," Beckett scolded. He was holding the offending object in his hand, and he didn't look happy.

I couldn't believe my luck. He'd been gone all morning. I had no idea where, and I didn't care. When McKay had wandered in with that turkey, I had thought my chance had arrived, and I had taken it, only to get foiled just shy of my goal. "You suck, you know that," I said spitefully.

I don't know who was more surprised by my outburst; me, McKay or Beckett. Carson folded his arms, which kind of looked ridiculous, because my bootlegged bounty was still clenched in his hand, and it was getting kind of squished now because his fist was balled up. "I see this little episode hasn't improved your behavior any," he replied. He unfolded his arms, and pointed a hand at me, "Tomorrow, no sooner."

I was grinning like I hadn't done in days, because he was pointing with the hand that held the sandwich, and it was a mangled piece of food by now. He glared, and threw the thing in the trashcan, disgusted with me, and stomped away.

Rodney whistled through his teeth. "I think you're making him mad."

"Who cares, he's just a big teddy bear anyway," I said, tossing my head carelessly back against the pillow.

McKay didn't seem to know what to think of that. "You've changed," he said, finally.

"What?"

"You're more…loose, a little bit on the wild side," Rodney explained.

Was I? Maybe, I was still struggling with processing what had happened. I had recently discovered that my stomach was peppered with tiny scabs. It had looked like someone had splattered reddish brown paint across my abdomen, and it hurt a lot worse than it looked. I figured it was part of the reason for the liquid diet, but I'd still been leery of getting answers, so I had accepted the mess with unflinching calm, and continued to observe.

"Would you quit doing that," McKay snapped.

I realized I'd been staring off again, into nothing. I had to admit, I was doing it a lot. "Doing what?" I asked, but I knew what he was talking about.

"You keep staring, your eyes unfocused, and you act like your some alien observer from another world communing with his buddies on another plane."

That was a mouthful, even more than usual for McKay. I sighed, and adjusted my shoulders in the bed. I was starting to get that itch to move, and it was depressing because I knew Beckett wouldn't even consider it for another couple of days.

I was also getting looks from everyone, these long, painful looks. And it was like they were trying to store away who I was, so they'd never lose me again. I had to know. I needed to know. If I was ever going to put this behind me, and get back to normal, I had to find out what'd happened. "Tell me," I said, and the words were reluctant to leave, but I did it anyway.

"Are you sure?" Rodney was the coward now. When it came down to it, he didn't want to tell me, or maybe he was afraid to tell me now that a couple of days had passed. Or maybe he was worried how I'd react.

"No, I'm not sure," I snapped. I ran an angry hand through my hair, reminded of the IV line when it pulled at my skin, and the tape caught the hair on my wrist. "Just…do it, before I lose my nerve."

He seemed surprised at my admission. So was I. It just goes to show that everyone has limits, and I'd reached mine. And maybe, possibly, McKay was becoming more to me than a guy that had been put on my team. I remembered scenes from earlier, and McKay had been there, and regardless of what was going on around me, he kept trying to reassure, and protect, which was weird, because if you'd had asked me before this all went down, he would've been the last one I'd have pegged for sticking when the going gets rough. I was starting to trust him, and by admitting a weakness to him, I was awkwardly showing that trust, and opening up to the growing friendship.

McKay seemed ready to say something, but then he shrugged. "This is going to take a while," he said instead.

"I'm not going anywhere," I retorted, and attempted a real smile. I think it probably didn't quite make it, but it seemed to bolster Rodney's nerve.

"You remember the East pier, the one where we found the room next to the prison cell for the Wraith?"

I did. When Elizabeth had confronted me about a possible spy, we'd started looking for a way to contain the culprit. We'd found the containment cells, and a lot more. Then it ended up being a lesson in humility and irony, because the spy had been me, inadvertently, when I'd trigged the tracking beacon inside the locket, and handed it to Teyla.

I was still trying to come to terms with that entire debacle, and realizing that my screw-up, because of the gene, was behind the Wraith's awakening. I had known it was my fault they'd woke in their hive ship, but to know that the only reason they showed up on Teyla's planet when they did, was because I'd activated that stupid locket, well, even my optimistic side had taken a beating.

McKay realized I was falling back into not-so great memories, and he continued. "After you questioned…Steve," he used the moniker I had given our guest, "we set out to see if there was any weaponry in an area that looked promising. What we found was a biological weapon."

I put a hand against my gut. The pain medication was wearing thin, and the hurt was gaining in intensity. "Biological weapon?"

Rodney was getting uncomfortable. Must be the bad stuff was about to begin. "Let me guess, I let it loose?" That stupid, annoying, fantastic ability I had, and one I was still learning to control.

"You picked up this thing, you said it reminded you of a rocket launcher from back home, a " McKay searched for the right designation.

"M1?" I supplied. It was a common launcher used in World War II, and because of its popularity, it was the most often recognized.

"Whatever," he dismissed, clearly, rocket launchers weren't high on his list of important things to know. "When you touched it, something shot out and hit you, like some kind of pulse blast. You went flying, but it only knocked you out."

Something occurred to me. "You asked me to help you, and I told you to wait, didn't I?"

"You always tell me to wait," he said, and he was irritated because I kept interrupting.

But this was important. Things had started to go all crazy after I'd gone to help McKay, maybe that whole electricity pad thing wasn't real? "Was there a pad on the ground, kind of like a Star Trek transporter thingy?" I sat forward, despite the twinge that was more than a twinge, in my belly.

Rodney looked upset. "What are you talking about? Oh God, you're having a relapse," he stood, but I caught his wrist.

"Stay, I'm not having a relapse."

"Then what is this Star Trek "

"Everything started going nuts, not long after Weir told me to help you, but I begged off and got breakfast, and took a nap first." I explained. I hoped that'd really happened.

He seemed to accept what I said, so it must've. At least I could pinpoint the time frame a little better. "Then what?"

"I got Beckett. They took you to the infirmary, but you kept…saying stuff. Weird, and you were fighting everyone half of the time, when you were awake. It was like you were living something else, _somewhere_ else."

I felt a lump in my throat, because I had been. It had seemed so horribly real, even when things were wrong, I could feel the people in my hallucinations, I could touch, and breathe them. If something that doesn't exist can fool you so totally, so completely, how could you trust in what you had, right now? How could you say, _this is real_, and believe in it, because just maybe you'd wake up tomorrow, and it wouldn't be the same? "It was so real," I whispered, and bits of it played back, without conscious recall.

That seemed to piss McKay off. "It wasn't real, Major, none of it, _ever_. I tried to tell you that _we_ were real, but you wouldn't listen."

"I know. You were always there, well, most of the time." I remembered some of the things I'd said to McKay in my psychotic world. "How did Beckett fix me? And, out of morbid curiosity, what are all the holes from?"

Here he heaved a great, body-wrenching, sigh, and he stretched his arms back, cracked his neck, which I winced at, because that was just gross. Finally, he seemed to have gotten himself settled. "Actually, he didn't. I did."

I raised an eyebrow at that revelation. I hadn't seen that one coming. "Really?"

"Yes, you'd be happy to know the resident genius figured it out, just in the nick of time to save you, I might add," he bragged, but I took the bragging for what it was, a layer of protection he was so used to using that he never thought twice.

"McKay," I warned, and I was tired. This was taking a lot out of me.

He scowled because I was taking the wind from his sails, and I almost grouched to him that if my infirm state was annoying him, he could finish later. "It was parasites, little, tiny parasites, and they were growing in your stomach, the byproduct of their metabolism happened to be an incredibly strong hallucinogen."

You know, I've seen a lot since picking up General O'Neill, but the thought that my gut had been full of parasites was creepy, and disturbing, in a whole new way that this entire experience had been. "Parasites?" I repeated, numbly.

Rodney was unwrapping a power bar. "You should've seen how huge they got!" he crowed, and took a bite of the food.

I didn't want to know how big they got, but I did want to know how they got out, and I also wanted to know if they were sure that all of them were gone. "They're gone, right, _all_ of them?"

"Mhm," he said, with a mouthful. He chewed it down to a talkable level. "The trick was to use the weapon to extract them. It had a two-way trigger. One way would shoot the victim full of a packet of the parasites, the other way, it'd suck them back out, of course, they left a few holes," he pointed at my stomach.

"A few?" I said, a little louder than I meant too, but there were more than a _few _holes.

"Or so," he replied defensively.

_Jesus_. I closed my eyes. The truth was stranger than fiction. I heard McKay stand. I knew I looked bad. As he'd been explaining it to me, I could feel myself growing more strained, pale, washed out, twisted and hung out to dry. Why couldn't it ever be something simple around here? Everything was always so damn complicated, and heartbreaking.

I felt Beckett arrive. I hadn't opened my eyes, because the pain had risen to that level where it was really causing me grief, and I hated to admit that I wanted more medication. Nobody wanted to ask for more drugs, least of all me. But I wanted them more than anything right now, and not to just take away the pain, I wanted to take away this whole entire week, or however many days it was. Maybe I could just pretend it hadn't happened, and wipe that time away from my memory…and I suppose McKay could learn to be humble, as in, not in a million years. I was stuck with the memories.

I felt tugging on my tubing, and knew Carson was taking care of the physical side for me. I heard him whispering to McKay. I had one last question, before McKay left, or drugged sleep carried me away. I forced my tired eyes open. "McKay," I said, bringing his attention away from Beckett, who must've heard from the wonderboy himself that I'd just been served up a slice of amazing stories.

"Yeah?"

"The gun, whatever it is, where is it now?" I needed to know it was somewhere I'd never have to see it again, though the funny thing was, I had no memory of it at all.

"Locked away, Major." He knew what I was thinking. "No one will find it again for a long, long time."

There was something else that was bugging me. "That thing," I coughed, and clenched a sluggish hand against my wounds, trying to keep the agony bearable from the movement. "It could've only had one purpose."

McKay must've realized it as well because I didn't see any hint of confusion in his deep blue eyes, and he stared back at me, and didn't look away. "I know."

I nodded. I knew he knew. He was smart. "Those Ancients weren't so nice." I was drifting away, and let myself succumb to the beckoning sleep. Before I lost all thought, I heard Beckett ask McKay what purpose, and heard Rodney's stark reply, _interrogation, torture_. Nope, the Ancients weren't so innocent after all, and neither were we.

THE END

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AN: Just wanted to say again, thank you for taking the time to read, and review! This is my first really dark fic, except for my Enterprise fic The End of the World, which is a depressing different fic. I had so much fun writing this one, and now that it's out of my head, I'm going to get Paradigm finished up in short order, so thank you for being patient. 


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